


Spellin' It Out

by Smokeybluebrookelyn107



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Fluff, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Mush, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Natasha Romaoff - Freeform, Oblivious Reader, Oneshot, Other, Romantic Fluff, Shameless, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vision - Freeform, bi reader, bucky barnes is a romantic, cursing, mentions of other Avengers, past reader relationship with Maria Hill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26025058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokeybluebrookelyn107/pseuds/Smokeybluebrookelyn107
Summary: Bucky thought he’d been pretty obvious. He’d asked you out a thousand times, made a thousand more romantic gestures and exhausted every move in his extensive repertoire but you didn’t seem to realise that he wasn’t just being a good “friend”.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	Spellin' It Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure Bucky Barnes, tooth-rotting fluff and I am not sorry! Originally in two parts on Tumblr but merged into a oneshot here.

Bucky mindlessly watched the whirlpool emerge in the sludge that was his untouched coffee. It swirled around and around and, around, stirred up by the mangled spoon that sat lamely between his vibranium fingers.

Even in the aftermath of the Hydra debacal, Steve had never seen him look quite this miserable.

‘Y’know, I hear there was a guy who made a career outta that,’ he said, eyeing the distorted implement before setting his own coffee down and taking the seat opposite. His tone softened as he continued. ‘Anythin’ I should be worried about?’

‘Only me dyin’ alone,’ Bucky replied, head falling to the table with a heavy thump that would have left the average human being in need of a trip to the ER. His fist flopped down beside him leaving a dent that the ball of steel formally known as a spoon would have been much happier for.

‘What happened?’

‘Nothin’,’ Bucky responded with a wry snort.

Steve sipped his coffee and waited patiently for his friend to elaborate. ‘I think I’ve really messed things up with Y/N,’ he eventually mumbled, a deep sigh ruffling the thick curtain of hair that covered his face. 

‘What do you mean “messed up”? I just saw them. They were bouncin’ off the walls about those tickets you gave them.’

‘That’s part of the problem.’

Rubbing the furrow between his brows, Steve set his coffee down again. He’d heard you scream with excitement from across the hall. When he’d peeked around his office door to see what the hell was going on, you had your arms around Bucky’s neck, squeezing so hard that he thought you might inadvertently cut off his air supply. You had burst into everybody’s offices on your way back to your own, telling anyone who would listen about how amazing Bucky was for managing to get tickets to a show that had been sold out for a whole year.

That had to be a half-hour ago. At most.

‘Okay, I’m confused. Wasn’t that what you wanted?’

‘Yeah but this wasn’t.’

Bucky lifted his head off the table, the deep, red mark on his forehead disappearing almost instantly. He took his phone out of his pocket, pulled up a message and slid it across the table towards Steve.

‘Hi Buckaroo,’ Steve read aloud the words that Bucky had already committed to memory, ‘just wanted to say thanks so much again for the tickets, I’m so excited!! I owe you big time!! You’re the best friend ever!!!!’

The silence that followed was almost painful as that last sentence hit home. ‘Oh.’

‘Yeah, “oh”.’

‘But I thought you guys had a date yesterday?’

‘So did I,’ Bucky groaned, running his fingers through his now shoulder-length hair.

‘And?’

‘We went to the movies, got a bite to eat, I walked them all the way home with my arm around their shoulders. It was god damned perfect. Then we’re standin’ outside and I’m leanin’ in and they give me a big hug, a kiss on the cheek and, say, “friend dates are really underrated. We should do this more often”.’

If Steve thought he was confused before, he sure as hell was now.

‘What’s a friend date?’

‘Satan’s own creation,’ Bucky replied, dropping his head down on the table even more dramatically than before. ‘I’ve fucked it up. I must’ve done and they’re just trying to let me down gently, it’s the only logical explanation. I swear I used to be better at this.’

The day that Bucky Barnes doubted his flirting prowess was the day hell froze over. Laying aside all thoughts of the impending apocalypse, Steve re-read the text and shook his head in complete bemusement.

‘Wow. I knew Y/N could be oblivious but this is impressive even for them.’

‘Oblivious?’

‘Yeah, Maria had to literally spell it out for them on a sheet of paper “I W-A-N-T T-O D-A-T-E Y-O-U D-U-M-B-A-S-S!”.’

‘Maria?’ Bucky’s head was off the table so fast he could’ve given himself whiplash if that were even possible.

‘They courted a while ago. Not exactly a secret, I thought you knew,’ Steve responded, sheepish.

‘What happened? Who broke it off? There still feelin’s involved?’

Steve took a moment to process the barrage of questions before answering.

‘Best of my knowledge it was mutual and it ended before we even found you, again. It’s ancient history.’

With that Bucky calmed a little. However he felt, the last thing he’d want to do was get in the way of you being happy; though, he wasn’t sure that he could have held his tongue from tearing Maria a strip off if she’d broken your heart.

‘So, Y/N just might not realise that’s where I’ve been comin’ from?’

‘I’d put good money on it,’ Steve shrugged, handing Bucky’s phone back to him.

‘But I’ve been so obvious. Even Vis has been pulling my leg! I mean, I had my arm around them all last night. We were a hair away from kissin’ the whole time! Can I get more obvious than that?’

‘Times Vis by a million and that’s about where Y/N is with this stuff. And you guys have always been pretty tactile with each other, they might not see you having your arm around them as outta the ordinary enough to realise how you feel.’

Bucky thought about that for a moment, unconsciously reaching to stir his coffee again before realising that there wasn’t a spoon left to stir with. ‘Unless you say the actual words, unless you say “Y/N, I like you” the penny’s not gonna drop.'

Throwing the steel blob on to the table, Bucky made fists around his hair as another uncharacteristic wave of self-doubt washed over him.

‘But how do you know that they really are oblivious this time rather than just not interested?’

‘The only people in the whole compound who don’t seem to know the answer to that are you two. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to lay the law down these past few months to keep everybody from meddlin’?’

‘Really?’

‘You wouldn’t believe! So, get it together already before Nat has an aneurysm. I am beggin’ you.’ 

‘Okay…’ Bucky said, another deep sigh falling from his lips, ‘”Y/N, I like you”.’

‘”Y/N, I like you”. Easy as pie.’

**

The date on the tickets pinned to the board above your computer had finally rolled around. And by “finally” you meant after the forty-eight hours since Bucky had so kindly presented them to you.

Those two days had felt like two years, especially with a growing unease nagging beneath your buzzing excitement.

Bucky hadn’t been himself.

Yes, he was still cracking jokes, being a pain in Sam’s ass and otherwise Bucky-ing along as usual but you could tell that there was something else, something swirling around in his head that he wasn’t voicing.

Nightmares, surfacing memories or non-specific feelings of impending doom that knocked him off-kilter were less of a fixture than they used to be yet, they still weren’t uncommon. Usually, he would respond to your concern by accepting an offered hug, given for as long as he needed it. He would let the words flow when he felt able to talk or admit that he was “just havin’ an off day” when he couldn’t. Either way, he would let you in and you were glad to be there for him, honoured with the rare gift of your friend’s trust.

Yesterday, however, he had simply laid his hand on your shoulder, given it a little squeeze and said an unconvincing: “I’m fine”. He had looked back at you for a long, open-mouthed moment, expression ranging from unsure to awkward and all the way back to unsure again. Then he had let go of you like the feel of your skin had the capacity to melt vibranium and hurried away with no more than a muttered: “see you later”.

It had surprised you how much that had hurt.

Whatever was up with Bucky, Steve knew.

You could tell.

While you were in no way envious of the bond shared between best friends - there were, after all, things that nobody but Steve could truly understand - you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was going on centred around you. However, you also couldn’t think of a single thing that you might have done to upset him or why he could be acting so off, otherwise. 

Exhausted of running around in circles, you descended into a fit of productive distraction, the passage of time dissolving from your awareness until a knock at your office door brought you back to the present.

You looked up to find Bucky filling the open doorway, a jacket on a coathanger in each hand.

‘Dare I ask?’ He inquired, eyeing the piles of empty boxes all stamped with the S.H.I.E.L.D crest and CLASSIFIED in large, red lettering plus the filled to bursting, black plastic bags that had taken over the small space. With how he was looking at you now - all warm, all soft and all Bucky - the calm comfort that you always felt around him settled over you like mist. It lulled away all your worry like it had never existed in the first place.

Perhaps you had been overthinking things.

‘Freshly digitised historic files don’t shred themselves.’

‘Anything juicy?’ He asked, that roguish smirk in full effect.

‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you.’

‘What, killin’ me with cuteness ain’t enough?’

You felt heat flood your face. He knew you could never think of a comeback to things like that, that’s why he did it so, you settled for a playful glare instead.

The lame and brief joke battle brought a rich and, slightly despairing smile to his lips that reached all the way up to his eyes. Then they flickered with something unsure, almost sad, and seeing it there tugged at every heartstring you had.

‘I owe you an apology,’ he said, eyes flitting down to the floor before meeting yours again, ‘for yesterday. I’m sorry that I was all weird when we talked. I’m doin’ somethin’ that I haven’t done for a really long time and I…um…I’m not handlin’ it as smooth as I’d like.’

Without the slightest hesitation, you moved forward and wrapped your arms around him, squeezing gently. For a second he seemed taken aback by your immediate response then you felt one arm curl around you, his whiskered cheek settling against yours.

‘It’s ok,’ you responded, ‘I get it.’

‘You do?’

‘Theatres are crowded at the best of times, let alone when they’re sold out. Don’t feel like we have to go if it’s going to stress you out too much.’

A half-laugh brushed your jaw, whiskers tickling as he shook his head.

‘You really are somethin’, y’know that?’

Enjoying the warmth of things set right, you relaxed into his embrace. As you took in a relieved breath, your senses came alive with something unfamiliar that tickled at your nose.

Bucky’s eyes widened as, with a furrowed brow, you pulled away a little, laying your hand on his chest before following your curiosity into the crook of this neck.

‘You smell…new,’ you concluded with a final, dubious sniff.

Baby blue eyes met yours, his jaw clenching then relaxing as he spoke softly back. 

‘I got new aftershave. Y’hate it?’

‘Er…no, it smells great.’

‘But?’

‘No “but”.’

‘But?’

His tone was insistent.

He knew you too well. 

‘I’ve just kind of got used to Eau de Bucky, that’s all.’ 

When he pulled away he took you in carefully, gaze dropping from your eyes to your mouth and back again. The smile that pinched at the dimples on one side faded, that unsure look taking over, stronger than before. ‘There was …um…somethin’ I meant to say yesterday.’

‘Okay, what’s up?’

‘The thing is…Y/N, I…’ Bucky paused, holding his breath before letting it out again. ‘…really need your advice.’

Taking a step back, he held up the two jackets in front of him; one classic black, one velvety blue. ‘Haven’t been to the theatre since Forty-one. Figured the dress code might be a little different.’

Just from how he held the two in front of him, you could already tell which he favoured.

‘Which do you like best?’

He smirked over at you, taken off guard.

‘Darlin’, that ain’t how this game works. It goes; I bring you jackets and you tell me which one you like best.’

‘Well, for the record, that game sucks,’ you responded, taking both jackets out of his hands and laying the blue one over the back of your chair. Relieving the black one of its hangar, you took it by its lapels and held it out to help Bucky in. He looked as though he might try and put up an argument but humoured you, anyway, the jacket sliding on easily over his black t-shirt.

Hands on his shoulders, you turned him around, using the window in your office door as a makeshift mirror.

He looked good in it, there were no two ways about that. Fastening it up and standing a little straighter, he didn’t seem entirely uncomfortable in it, either. ‘How does that feel?’

‘Alright,’ he replied.

‘But?’

Bucky shot you another despairing look at giving him a taste of his own medicine.

‘Could be goin’ to the theatre. Could be goin’ to a funeral,’ he said, pausing before turning to face you, ‘and I’m kinda hopin’ tonight ‘ain’t gonna be the death of somethin’.’

‘Okay then. Next one.’

With your tap on his arm, he took it off and let you help him into the blue one. The velvet slid over him like warm butter and you could tell that he felt good in it the moment it settled over his shoulders. It was just the right colour to set off his eyes, contrasting with the dark brown of his loose hair as it brushed the soft fabric. ‘What do you think?’

Sliding his hands into the pockets, Bucky regarded himself carefully in the window-cum-mirror, gaze lingering over your hand where it still rested on his bicep.

‘I like that.’

‘Then wear it.’

Another slow moment passed - there seemed to be a lot of those lately - before you pulled away and put the down-voted jacket back on its hanger. Bucky followed, taking off and hanging the other.

‘I’ll come pick you up at seven,’ he said, hovering in the doorway on his way out, jackets slung over one shoulder.

‘It’s okay, I can meet you in the lobby.’

‘I’m taking you out so, I’ll come pick you up. That’s how it’s done.’

‘Some things have changed since Forty-one, you know?’ You teased.

The beginnings of a smile fluttered over his lips as he looked sweetly back.

‘This hasn’t.’

Then he was out the door, humming as he went or rather, you had thought that he was humming at first but then he must have just started mumbling to himself instead.

“Easy as pie, my ass” wasn’t a lyric to any song that you had ever heard.

Before you knew it, it was seven PM on the nose and Bucky was standing at your door.

Just how good he looked hit you completely out of the blue. Not that you hadn’t noticed before, that would have been impossible for any hot-blooded human being. This look on him, however, was off the charts.

In that jacket paired with black pants, a white shirt unbuttoned to his collar bone and his hair long, loose and - so it seemed - freshly conditioned, he looked like he had stepped straight out of a billboard or something.

There was silence for another one of those long moments and you didn’t realise that you had been giving him the full up and down until you found his face again.

Bucky looked back at you from beneath long, dark lashes, beaming the most vivid shade of smug. You were preparing to say something, anything but he beat you to the punch.

‘You look gorgeous.’

Fidgeting a little under the compliment, you gave an awkward laugh.

‘Thanks…um….so do…so do you. Working the jacket, by the way.’

That smile. It was sweet as marshmallow below a gaze so piercing that it felt as though he could see straight through you. Being seen was painfully exhilarating and you couldn’t even be sure what he was actually seeing but whatever Bucky found only stretched that smile wider with every passing second.

‘Ready to go?’

His arm slid around your shoulders as you made your way down the hall, a recent and comfortable edition to the contact that had naturally developed as you had worked and trained together. 

Since heading into New York from the compound meant driving, Bucky had apparently talked Tony into lending him one of his cars - would wonders never cease?

He strode around in a fashion that James Bond would be proud of, walking you around to the passenger side and opening your door, making sure you were settled in your seat before closing it gently behind you.

That feeling that something was amiss bubbled up to the surface. He didn’t seem to want to be outside of touching distance for any longer than necessary. Ordinarily, you would be concerned that he was feeling more flustered than he wanted to let on but none of the other tell-tale signs of a Bucky in distress were present in his contagious laughter and interesting conversation.

The calm that descended over you as you excitedly filled Bucky in on the history of your favourite show gave you a sense of well being that you hadn’t had for years, possibly ever. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what had triggered it but it was there nonetheless and having Bucky there to share it with felt perfect.

You felt like you could have spent the whole night just watching him move; the slightest gestures, those little smiles, how he talked so easily with everyone he came into contact with, from the usher who took your tickets to the old couple sitting behind you whom, it transpired, had been at that fabled show back in Forty-one. He had the power and grace of a mountain lion with the playful personality of a puppy and not one pair of eyes in the place managed to miss it. You found yourself fending off more than one envious stare as you made your way to your seats and you were amazed how oblivious Bucky seemed to be to the interest directed his way. Throughout the show, you even found your own gaze wandering back to him and how he took in every effect with wide eyes and childlike curiosity. He would be picking it apart in his head trying to figure out how they did it, what tech they might be using and how they managed to merge it together with a live performance. You wouldn’t be surprised if by morning F.R.I.D.A.Y would be ready to crash, inundated with questions, info requests and a long enough search history to break the server.

Seeing that look on his face was its own kind of magic and you had talked yourselves around in circles on the way back to the car after the curtain came down.

However, somewhere along the walk from the theatre to the parking lot, something shifted.

Bucky’s arm was around you, once again, but there was a distance there that felt further for the physical contact. Despite the sinking in your stomach and the thoughts of the last couple of days making a resurgence, you tried to remind yourself that handling people en masse could be exhausting for him, perhaps he was feeling it after the fact, this time?

‘Y/N?’

Bucky abruptly stopped right there in the middle of the sidewalk and you followed suit, turning to face him.

‘What’s up?’

His hand was on your shoulder again, thumb gently brushing your collarbone. ‘I need to tell you somethin’. That thing that I wanted to say the other day.’

Running his fingers through his hair was an ironclad stress tic of his and that sense of unease exploded in your chest. ‘Y/N, I like you.’

You blinked a couple of times before breathing out all the tension that your body had been holding in.

‘Jesus Christ, you had me worried there for a minute,’ you chuckled, giving him a playful shove, ‘I like you too.’

Bucky observed you carefully. His eyes searched yours, giving a little shake of his head as realisation seemed to flutter across his features.

‘What I mean is…what I’m really saying is…ah, fuck it.’

Cupping your cheeks with both hands, Bucky pulled you towards him and covered your mouth with his.

The unforeseen shock of it froze you in place, your brain drowning in “does not compute”s.

You weren’t prepared for the softness of those pouting lips, the gentle yet firm feel of his fingers on your skin, the sweet flavour of his breath dancing with yours and the smell of pure, unadulterated Bucky that filled your nose. The warmth of it all tying your senses in knots pulled you out of yourself into him. Before you realised what you were doing you felt yourself leaning into his kiss, meeting him on unfamiliar ground that felt too much like home to fathom.

Your hands fisted around the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer as your tongues met in the playground of each others touch; soft, slow and needing.

You couldn’t judge how long it was before you came up for air or how many people had passed while you lost yourselves in that taste of each other but somehow it didn’t seem to matter.

Bucky pulled away a little more, taking you in again with a sweet and slightly disbelieving smile. ‘You…you kissed me back.’

‘You kissed me first.’ The words felt odd on your tongue, the “does not compute” regaining its mantle in your thoroughly befuddled brain. 

‘Had to get your attention somehow.’

Your cheek tingled beneath his touch as his thumb stroked along your cheekbone, eyes brimming with a tentative weight that you had seen more and more during the past few months.

Then it hit like you a brick.

All the lingering touches, the slow moments, the “do you want to go for a coffee?”s, the taking of empty seats beside you at team dinners and parties, the little gifts, the not-so-little gifts, the asking for opinions about jackets, your last trip to the movies, him leaning in…

‘Holy shit!’ You exclaimed, hands rising to your mouth in shocked realisation.

‘And the penny drops,’ Bucky gave a relieved laugh, forehead dropping to yours as the truths flooded in thick and fast. 

‘You were…?’ 

‘I was.’

‘And you really meant…?’

‘Yup.’

‘But I thought you were just…’

‘Oh, believe me, I know.’

As you took him in now, Bucky looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. ‘Honey, I like you…ah, who am I kiddin’,’ he trailed off, taking a deep breath before correcting himself, ‘Honey, I love you but you really don’t know how to take a hint.’

You couldn’t have anticipated seeing that look directed right at you; like you lit up the whole world and no amount of misunderstandings and dumbassery could do anything but make you more adorable in his eyes.

‘I never had to say the words without knowin’ for sure that someone felt the same way. And tryin’ to tell you…I’ve never been that scared. So, I’ve been at it for months, dropped every hint I could think of, used all my best moves. I was beginnin’ to think just didn’t want me.’

You stood there in stunned silence for a long moment and Bucky just drank you in as another set of truths, previously unrealised but now strong and unarguable, rose to the surface.

‘That’s not how it is,’ you explained, clinging to him more than a little tighter, ‘it just didn’t occur to me that you’d feel…that I felt…’

You gave up trying to make it make sense because it didn’t. It never would. It just felt right, now. And now that you knew it, you couldn’t unknow it even if you wanted to. It just was. ‘I love you, too.’

You didn’t think that you had ever seen a smile that happy, or felt one like it bloom on your own lips.

‘So, can I take you out on a proper date, this time? None of this “friend date” crap?’

A nod was all the response that you managed to get in before you were searching for each other’s lips again, finding peace in the bustle of a New York street with a thousand passers-by and, if the blinding flash in your peripheral vision was anything to go by, what may be more onlookers in the days to come when that photo hit the front page. 

But let them see. 

You didn’t care about anything else than what you had right in front of you.

The team were going to be so surprised when they found out!


End file.
